Hell in High Heels
by TheMadKatter13
Summary: Jim always well-dressed but this was a bit different. Seb would take it. And Jim. And he would gladly beg if he had to. CU. MorMor.


**Yanis Marshall looks too much like Andrew Scott to me in his video '_YANIS MARSHALL CHOREOGRAPHY "BRITE LITES" LANA DEL REY . HIGH HEELS CLASS PARIS_' for this story to not have happened.**

* * *

Seb scrolled through the schedule on his phone one more time, ensuring the details were imprinted on his mind, as he threw together a breakfast. Scramble together some eggs, some sausage and bacon, some hashbrowns, some onions and green peppers, throw the whole thing in a few tortilla shells? Bam. Breakfast on the go. Spare a little tin foil and he could even pocket a few for later. He heard Jim coming out of the bedroom and he turned his head that way to speak while keeping his eyes on his food so it didn't burn and his phone so he could cement the info.

"So, boss, just a quick check on this Mag-" Seb made the mistake of actually looking over his shoulder and he could feel all the saliva in his mouth evaporating at the sight that greeted him.

Now Colonel Sebastian Moran had seen all kinds of people in all kinds of things. He had seen people covered in blood and in dirt. He'd seen them covered in dirt and grime. He'd seen them in one piece and in many pieces. He'd seen them naked and fully dressed and every variation in between. Having Jim Moriarty as his lover, he'd seen the criminal mastermind in most of those states. But he'd never seen Jim like this. And it threatened to break his mind.

From the waist up, Jim was clad in a normal bespoke white button up with a matching black jacket. It made him look as small as he was but it suited both him and his needs. People attributed 'danger' to 'size', and that was their mistake. But from the waist down... There were trousers to match the jacket, but they didn't go down to his ankles like normal trousers. These were only as long as they took to cover his arse, hugging the firm mounds of flesh perfectly and exposing hairless, milky legs. He'd seen Jim in his shorts before. So that wasn't exactly new, just that they were tailored and meant for wearing in public. What was new were the stilettos gracing the boss's (dainty) feet. Solid black ones that covered his crossed ankles. Made his legs seem even longer, drew Seb's eyes to them unerringly. Then Jim shifted, just a little bit, and he realised that the heels weren't exactly solid black, but had blood-red soles. Seb moaned.

Jim looked up, eyes wide and innocent, as if he had no idea of the effect his clothes were having on his second-in-command. He knew exactly what effect his clothes were having. "What's that, Sebby?" he asked in that stupid fucking Irish accent that never failed to get under the soldier's skin. The pan and phone in his hands clattered to the stove and floor respectively and he almost crushed the latter under his boot when he strode over to the genius lingering in the doorway. Arms that he worked hard to keep in shape dwarfed the smaller man's head when he braced them against the door frame and leaned down to nuzzle around the collar to breath in the faint scent of well-applied expensive cologne before trailing his lips along the the pale skin to the curve of an ear.

"I'd really like to fuck you right now, boss," he rumbled, canting his hips forward to show exactly how much he'd really like that. His erection was hot and thick from where it was trapped behind the zipper of the cargo trousers he'd swapped his fatigues out for, and he really wanted to put it where it belonged: as far up the boss's tight arse as it would go. "C'mon, Jim. We don't have to leave for at least another half hour. If you keep those shoes on, I don't think timing is gonna be much of an issue." He thrust again, grinding his erection against Jim's hip and relishing the fissures of pleasure the friction caused. "You want me to beg, Jim?" he growled. "I know how you love to hear me beg."

"I do so love to hear you beg but we don't have time to tie you down this morning." The soldier snarled and slammed his fist against the wall as the genius looked up at him through long lashes with a sly smirk. "I suppose I'll just have to let you fuck me quick and rough on the kitchen table." Seb sucked in a quick breath through teeth bared in a feral grin. The pulse in his cock was noticeable now, and distracting. Jim calmly lifted the arm between him and the kitchen and walked past Seb who could only stare after him, entranced by the perky arse at the top of those delicious fucking legs, both emphasized by those fucking shoes with their red fucking soles. He felt like his blood was boiling in his veins.

While he was busy being distracted, Jim had draped his upper body across the bare tabletop and had pushed his tailored shorter-than-was-decent trousers down to mid thigh to make room for the saliva-slicked fingers he was currently working into his arse. Clenching his jaw and collecting himself, Seb pulled slowly away from the wall and walked just as slowly over to his, well, Jim. For a moment, he crouched and slid both hands up the back of the boss's legs, enjoying the way the heels had hardened calves and thighs before standing and grinding his still-covered erection against the loosened hole when the fingers in them pulled free.

"I thought you said you wanted to fuck me, Seb?" the criminal mastermind teased. Without a word, the sniper practically ripped his trousers apart to get to his cock. It sprung free and bounced off his stomach, leaving a damp spot against his white tee. He spat in his hand and gave a precursory single swipe over his cock before shoving inside dry. Prep was boring. Lucky Jim thought so too.

It was tight and hot inside, barely damp, but the friction was fantastic. He pulled out roughly and shoved back in, setting up a rough pace immediately. Jim was silent beneath them but that was a bit of a game, him trying to get the genius to make any sort of noise. As pleasure gathered in his nerves, he grew annoyed that the reason he was this hard in the first place wasn't even in sight. He pulled out and gripped bony hips tightly to torque the body beneath him roughly to the side until Jim was on his back, then dropped the heels onto his shoulders before shoving back in.

From this point of view, Seb had the opportunity to see the flush spread across lightly freckled cheeks, could watch the way black pupils dilated, could track the increasingly deeper and deeper rise and fall of the small chest. It was far from hearing Jim's pleasure, but that didn't make them any less of a win in his book. The heels pulled away from his shoulders but he knew better than to try and stop them. However, they only went as far as to brace against him, must under his collar bone, the sharp point of the stiletto pressing into his pectoral. Painfully.

His eyes shot to the black shoes, nipping at the ankle bone the position uncovered, before continuing down the smooth legs to the hard cock between slim thighs. Then up a suit-covered stomach and chest to pink lips curving into a sneer as the sharp points of the heels pressed harder into his muscles. Oh. So this was how it was going to be. Giving his own smirk in return, he wrapped his hands tight around those small, firm thighs and pulled them tight to his pelvis, thrusting his hips forward with the motion. Jim's eyes widened minutely, but he knew it was enough. Prostate.

With that, he renewed his efforts, pace increasing ferociously with each thrust as he chased the trailing tails of an orgasm. As the sharp pressure of stilettos increased to a pain denoting bruising and possible blood, his own grip around those thighs tightened to the point that would ensure fingerprint-bruises. Jim was positively tiny next to his own muscled form, but he fucking loved that about the man, especially the way his stature hid the absolute danger of him, hid the things he could do. The mere thought excited him and he snapped his hips forward roughly as he wrapped a meaty paw around the boss's slim cock and began to stroke it as harshly as he was fucking into him.

The lack of lubrication lent a painful friction to everything in such a way that it heightened the pleasure to nearly unbearable degrees.

"I can still feel my legs, Seb," Jim said, tone one of absolute boredom and disinterest. Seb knew it was just a ploy but it never failed to incense him anyway.

"Cheeky fucking tart," he snarled, shuffling his feet to rebalance and wrapped both arms around Jim's thighs, forcing the heels off his chest and back over his shoulders. The mere reminder of them threatened orgasm and his fist around Jim's cock blurred as he stroked as fast as he could, needing to feel the way the other would clench around him upon his own orgasm. "It's your arse you're not supposed to be able to feel, not your legs." And if Jim still could feel his arse after this, then he had to reevaluate his technique.

The slow burn was spreading through his limbs and Jim was starting to pant, quiet little breaths as his legs tensed under Seb's arms.

"Don't make me wait, boss," Seb growled. It wouldn't be the first time that Jim had done just that, using him immense control to hold off his own orgasm, which in turn never failed to stay his second-in-command's.

"You're lucky we don't have time right now, Sebby." That Jim could still sound so unaffected drove the soldier wild.

"Yessir." He grinned as Jim finally threw his head back, exposing the long neck hid by the high-ish collar of his shirt. The slick passage around him rippled as the cock in his hand began to spurt streams of semen and he closed his eyes, allowing his own orgasm to overtake him, predatory satisfaction blooming at the way Jim's arse clenched around him, milking him and trying to keep him inside.

They were still for a long minute as their bodies distributed the final electric shocks before calming, and perhaps a little before he was ready, the heels on his shoulders pulled down and planted on his chest again to shove him harshly away. His cock slid free with a wet squelch and as he stumbled back on trembling legs, the same predatory satisfaction as before ignited at seeing his posh genius looking so debauched with his mussed hair and rumpled suit jacket, Seb's seed leaking from Jim's puffy hole.

"What a pretty sight," he sneered. "Shame you can't stay like that all the time." Jim didn't bother to dignify his comment with a response as he pulled a rag from the table to clean up, throwing it at Seb when he was done. Still grinning, Seb followed suit before tossing the soiled rag over his shoulder. Jim's indecently short trousers were already back in place and he was striding out the door, stride much too confident for Seb never having seen him in heels before. He was so hypnotized by the sight that it wasn't until Jim disappeared down the stairs that the scent of something burning hit him.

Blinking, he turned to the stove to find his breakfast had turned into charcoal in the pan. With a frustrated curse, he turned off the lot and dropped the mess in the sink. Jim might not caring about eating on any kind of a schedule but Seb was a military man and used to routine. And to frequent meals. But he was getting to cotton on the the fact that there was no such thing as 'regularity'. Tucking away his now-soft cock, he tugged on his weapon-loaded coat and mourned the loss of another meal as he followed his mad genius out into another crime-filled day of death and mayhem. He supposed, all things considered, a missed meal being the worst part of his day was not the kind of life he had envisioned ending up with but he'd take it. And the sexy genius that came with it. Preferably in those shoes.

* * *

**General idea for Jim's outfit on my Polyvore, .com. Thanks for reading, please don't forget to review, and I'm totally not above shameless plugging to get you to my tumblr, TheMadKatter13-fanfiction, where you can follow me for alerts on new chapters, new stories, and WIPs. I'll see you there. :3**


End file.
